Inferential Reasoning
by star.everlasting
Summary: Any passing stranger would have been able to pick apart his mood, not to mention the three friends he considered his brothers. Noctis couldn't hide anything from them. - Or, the Prince of Lucis wears his heart on his sleeve and though he isn't the most articulate person in the world, sometimes, there are things that don't need words.


AHHHHHH! I know, I should be busy updating Oncoming Storm (FFXIII) and Nox Caelum (FFXV), both which chapters are halfway done (did that sentence even make sense?), but I was looking at fan art and headcanons on tumblr and dear Lord I can't handle it. Here is the product of all the 3am feels and happiness and butterflies with bromance and humor and fluff :) kind of like a LuNoct DTR, but they never actually get around to D-ing TR.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Final Fantasy XV

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"I know," Prompto started, watching his best friend put the worn leather notebook back into Umbra's satchel. "You're not going to tell me."

Noctis almost scoffed at his obvious play. "Then don't ask."

Curiosity, however, got the better of the blond as he immediately brushed aside his previous statement, jumping at the opportunity like one of his guns firing off a bullet. "What was that about?"

He heard Gladio laugh and Ignis chuckle at their exchange, knowing that they had (and still have) plenty of teasing quips regarding him and Luna. Because the comments were always respectful towards her, that left Noctis to bethe butt of those quips; for the millionth time, he cursed his inability to keep his emotions off his face. He had been told time and time again that he would be awful at poker because of his lack of a poker face, a conjecture which proved true one night two years ago when they played in Noctis' room in the Citadel after sneaking the prince out of his eighteenth birthday party early. Regis had lectured them in front of the Council, but the four knew that it was just a front. The King had later asked after the Council Meeting who won, letting out a low chortle and not at all surprised when he was told Ignis had cleaned out whatever Prompto, Gladio, and Noctis had brought to the table.

That meant every emotion, every little nuance or flicker showed on his forehead, in his eyes, and the set of his jaw and shoulders. Any passing stranger would have been able to pick apart his mood, not to mention the three friends he considered his brothers. Noctis couldn't hide anything from them, which is why every time Umbra arrived with the notebook, he had given up trying to suppress the shy smile, the slight flush, and the thinly-veiled excitement he had anyway at the approach of the dog, who was as much his friend as he was messenger. He would drop down on one knee, carefully take the notebook out, and then excitedly flip through the pages that he and Luna had filled up over the years to see her latest message.

Her flowing penmanship was in a completely different league than his own scrawl, despite his best handwriting at his desk when he was younger. The page sunk in ever so slightly as her pen marked her words to him, the sticker or picture she chose right above the one, maybe two-lined note. Noctis ignored the little jump in his chest and his stomach as his blue eyes swept over the page every time, knowing that she had taken the time to write to him in this private, more inmate way exclusively for the two of them instead of using easier, though more public methods of communication (that may or may not have been permitted while she was under the watchful eye of the Empire in Tenebrae; he added that to his mental list of things to ask about when he finally met up with her).

Though he was already eight years old when he met her, Noctis couldn't remember a time where Luna wasn't in his life. Everything before the accident seemed like a haze now, twelve years later- he had to work extra hard to dredge up any of those memories. When he was in Tenebrae, the two young royals were inseparable. Noctis even stayed in one of the twin beds in Luna's room, with both his father and Luna's mother, the Oracle Queen Sylva, noting that he had less nightmares with her close by.

Lunafreya and Noctis. Noct and Luna.

Never once had he needed to call her anything other than that. When the marriage arrangement was proposed, Noctis wanted so badly to talk to her about it, to ask- was she okay with it? Did she want this? Did she even _know_?

The word 'fiancé' was around the corner everywhere he went after that. Sometimes, he would catch himself listening to the news or to other people talk about his upcoming marriage, wondering how, exactly, that word rolled off their tongue so easily (he had wanted to ask Ignis about the mechanics of linguistics, originally, but the one time he did, he fell asleep mid-way through the brunet's discussion. After having been whacked by a fairly thick book, he resolved never again). Whenever Umbra arrived with the notebook, the only word Noctis could think of upon seeing it was 'Luna.' He tried to imagine her face, the way she looked when she was younger, grown into the remarkable woman he so often saw on the news nowadays, and then labeled her how everyone else did- as his fiancé

No matter what, he couldn't get the word to stick. Things felt so out of order- wasn't he supposed to see her all the time, buy her flowers, take her out to dinner and his favorite stargazing spot on top of the Citadel by warp-striking, and then putting a ring on her finger before thinking of her as his fiancé? Didn't she have to be his girlfriend before being engaged to him, and then his best friend before that, and his friend before that? Granted, being royalty meant living your life for the good of your people, but the more Noctis thought about it, the more it bugged him.

It had been twelve years since they had seen each other. They've always kept in contact, yes, but they had never talked about their relationship or anything remotely close to that topic. Their childhood promises to restore the light to Eos and stand by each other hardly counted as wedding vows or romantic proposals. No, they were words of friendship, of duty. Where, then, did that leave them?

Noctis never asked. Luna never brought it up.

But then the Prince thought about the conversations and stories he had with Prompto in high school that included all the blond's now-ex-girlfriends, about all his feelings with them and the escapades they would go on around Insomnia, and realized that whatever he had with Luna was so incredibly different that he couldn't use those as guides or frames of reference. Never once had he addressed Luna as his girlfriend, and yet, never once had his affection for her wavered.

Noctis was almost afraid to put into words his emotions whenever he got around to sorting through them in his head. The fact that even as a child, he felt the most at home with her outside of being with his father and the Regalia, scared him. The fact that even though they hadn't talked face-to-face in _twelve years_ and still had such a strong bond between them scared him. It terrified him because it was _different_ and it was _Luna_ and it was, at times, bigger than the war with the Empire and the favor of the gods.

But then at the same time, he knew that it wasn't a step he needed to be afraid to take, because it was _different_ than everything he had known before, and since when had he backed away from a challenge after that time Gladio and Prompto dared him to warp-strike down to the courtyard from the roof of the Citadel and he had hung on the side of the building for a good several minutes because he had to teach himself to breathe properly and gather his wits before closing his eyes and landing in a less-than-graceful way on the red carpet below?

And it was _Luna_ , not just the Oracle fulfilling her calling to support her King, but his blonde-haired, blue-eyed childhood best friend whom he had spent countless hours sewing sylleblossom crowns with in the Tenebraean hillside, the one whom had seen him at his worst and still ran down the long hallways with him, pushing his wheelchair as their childlike shrieks and laughter rang through the manor.

And at times, it was bigger than the war with the Empire and the favor of the gods, and in those times, Noctis could only think of far-off days where he would wake up not to Gladio's idea of tossing him off the mattress, Prompto's banging of a wooden spatula on a pan, or Ignis' constant shaking, but to Luna's smiling face like he had done so often so many years before. The black colors of Lucis would be complemented and completed with the white of Tenebrae, and he would be reminded of the beauty of those colors whenever he looked around his room and the Citadel, and even Insomnia, who would love their to-be-Queen. The sunlight would stream in through the tall window on the left side of the throne, and one day, he and Luna would be there, Luna glowing and stunning in her white wedding gown, and he in his stiff, uncomfortable formal attire, but he wouldn't pay any mind to it because all he would be able to do was look into the blue of her eyes that he missed so much and know that he would be able to see them for the rest of his life.

Even though Noctis and Luna never talked about it, though Noctis had never given it words, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt after Gentiana had appeared to them at Wiz's with Umbra and Luna's written message- ' _My prayers are with you, Noctis_ '- and he almost broke down in relief, hanging his head low as his hand stayed over the page she marked, that what it was didn't need words. He knew it. Luna knew it.

It was in all the words already written in their little red notebook with a bird printed into the leather cover, and in all the words that weren't there, unspoken in between the pictures and lines.


End file.
